


The Thief and the President's Daughter

by infinite_regress



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Humour, Implied Sexual Content, Kissing, Pretending To Be Married, Romance, Slow Burn, Whouffaldi Fic Challenge #2, character exploration, post Zygon inversion, true feelings, whouffaldi ficchal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-16
Updated: 2016-06-25
Packaged: 2018-07-15 10:07:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 16,836
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7218226
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/infinite_regress/pseuds/infinite_regress
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>‘Really?’ Jax spluttered, ‘You? You’re the thief who took a time ship, stole the President’s daughter and stopped the Time War?’<br/>The Doctor blushed. ‘Well, not on the same day.’</p><p>In some sectors, the Time War has not been forgiven or forgotten and time technology is illegal. Of course stories of the Time Lords are still told, but people often get them wrong. When the Doctor and Clara make an emergency landing in Devonian space the Doctor is soon recognised as the legendary hero who stopped the Time War. Who else could Clara be, but his lovely wife, the President’s daughter?</p><p>To save their skins they have to pretend to be married. Will they also face up to how they really feel about one another?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Crossed Paths

**Author's Note:**

  * For [xXdreameaterXx](https://archiveofourown.org/users/xXdreameaterXx/gifts).



> This story is part of the Whouffaldi Ficchallange  
> 'The Doctor and Clara must pretend to be married' by xXdreameaterXx 
> 
> Set between 'The Zygon Inversion' and 'Sleep No More.'
> 
> Thanks to my tireless beta readers, Turn_of_the_Sonic_Screw and DaisyofGalaxy for their advice and support.

When Clara walked into her flat the TARDIS was waiting in the corner, and it wasn’t even Wednesday. He’d been doing that more and more lately, turning up on Tuesdays, sneaking in on Saturdays, and Wednesdays went on longer.

And that wasn’t the _only_ thing changing.  

Since Christmas he’d been different. Warmer, closer, needy even: closeness wasn’t unwelcome, far from it, but it _was_ confusing. “We’re hugging now?” she’d asked as he crushed her in his arms. It was hard to keep up.

The TARDIS door was open and the sound of his guitar drew her in, “Pretty Woman,” again. He’d said hers was the only face that mattered, at least that’s what she thought he meant. It was impossible to tell what really went on behind those ice blue eyes.

With a deep breath she stepped into the TARDIS. There he was, a spring of loose silver curls, lost in music. It looked like he’d been busy repairing something under the console, then deliberately lost himself in music; wires hung lose and his tools were scattered across the floor.

He was still playing, eyes closed. He knew she was there, though, because his lips curled into a smile.

‘Where to, Clara?’

Always that question, where shall we run away to next? She paused and looked again at the half-finished work.

‘Shouldn’t you finish that first?’ She pointed at the exposed circuits and dangling and wires.

He waved a dismissive hand. ‘I was only re-calibrating the dimensional stabilisers. I’ll finish it on the way.’ He pulled the guitar over his head and propped it against the bookshelf. ‘How about a trip to the Crystal Caves of Kastellel Three? Or the planet with a rainbow that never fades?’ he said, arcing his hand over his head as he spoke.

‘They both sound lovely,’ she said, and they were in flight almost before the words were out of her mouth.

Maybe they could do both. Maybe she could stay a month this time. Hell, she could move in and it wouldn’t make a dent in her life. What would he make of that?

She nodded at the panel, and he sighed, but sat crossed-legged on the floor to finish the job. She sat beside him, happy to watch as he tinkered with the heart of the TARDIS. Something stirred in her as she watched him work. He was an enigma, a riddle, this Time Lord, with hands that could end civilisations and make magic with an electric guitar.

‘So different from anything human,’ she said, nodding at the circuits he was working on, but only half talking about the technology.     

‘Different, yes,’ he said, ‘but it’s an engine. It transforms energy into work.’ He traced a finger along a bundle of thin translucent cables. ‘The energy comes from the time vortex instead of petrol, but it’s the same basic principle underneath. Not so different really.’ He looked up at her as he spoke and his eyes were bluer than she remembered. She dimly wondered that his answer didn’t include “pudding brain” and a reference to superior Time Lord technology.

‘But human and Time Lord technology are poles apart, surely?’ she said.

He took a small cylindrical chip from the panel and held it in the palm of his hand. ‘See this? It’s a divergence chip. Put it in your laptop and it adapts and becomes part of the system. Human, Time Lord, together.’

Her breathe caught in her throat. ‘So, Time Lords and humans are compatible?’ she said quietly, then flushed and looked down. Damn! What would Freud make of _that_ slip? ‘I mean technology,’ she said quickly, ‘Time Lord and human _technology_ is compatible.’ When she looked up he was closer still, his voice soft and lilting, his breath on her face. Her heart danced in her chest.

‘They fit together perfectly,’ he said, the chip still in his hand.

Her better judgement piped up, in a small voice, _back off while you can both chalk this up to crossed wires_.

But her treacherous lips murmured, ‘The whole becomes greater than the sum of its parts.’ His eyes locked with hers. She held her breath, her heart pounding.

A shower of blue sparks sprinkled from the dangling wires and leapt at the divergence chip. The TARDIS lurched to one side.

‘Ow!’ he yelped, snatched his hand back. The chip shot across the floor. ‘I probably shouldn’t have taken that out while the dimensional stabilisers were off,’ he said, abashed, then scrambled after the chip. It rolled towards a grate. He made a lunge for it, just as it slipped out of sight.

Clara wondered what just happened. Was he trying to tell her something? For that matter, what had _she_ been saying? Perhaps fate intervened for the better. But she had a horrible feeling something slipped through her fingers. But there was no time for contemplation: the time-rotor juddered, the lights strobed and flickered; the whole TARDIS shook as if trying to break free of an invisible force.

‘Doctor, what’s happening?’

‘Something’s locked onto us.’

‘What?’

‘Haven’t a clue. Hold on!’

 

 

The _Grifter_ , Devonian Space 

 

The salvage vessel _Grifter’s_ engines complained nosily. Its owners, Jaisen Jax and Tia Yeltob, were making a fast exit from Farpoint Station after a disagreement with a drunk Telosian.

‘You’re my business partner, you don’t fight my battles for me,’ Tia said.

‘That guy had his hands on you!’

‘I was fine!’ She was more than capable of dealing with wandering hands and laughing it off, but when Jax decided to punch the Telosian on the nose things went from annoying to lethal real fast. They had to leave before picking up fuel and their starved engines were close to shutting down. 

Tia put her hand through her long dark hair and bit her lip. She looked at Jax. He was a darker shade of blue than usual; he was worried too. The _Grifter’s_ plasma system was ancient, and if they lost their remaining plasma they’d be dead in space, in the _literal_ rather than metaphorical sense.      

A light flashed on the Acquisition and Containment system control panel. The A&C unit locked on to salvageable space debris with a tight-angle transport beam and brought it direct to the cargo hold. But doing that _now_ would be disastrous. They were already pushing the _Grifter_ to her limits.

Tia yelled above the din of the engine. ‘We’re locked onto a piece of time-tech!’  

The plasma gauge needle flicked out of green, into amber, then edged towards red, the warning light flashing with an insistent _ping ping ping._

The engine stutter was getting louder.

‘Damn it!’ Jax muttered, his words swallowed by the sound of the groaning engines. The A&C unit flashed a warning: “unclassifiable object”.

Tia said, ‘Whatever we’ve locked on to is huge. No, wait, it’s small. No…That’s just plain weird.’ Then the screen flashed repeatedly:

“Error: containment limits breached.”

Another alarm sounded, adding to the chaos on the _Grifter._ Jax and Tia looked at one another.

Jax said, ‘I’ll deal with the plasma regulators.’

Tia flicked the navigation systems to auto-pilot. ‘I’ll get down to the hold. God knows what we’ve got on board.’

 

~*~

 

 ‘Everything’s jammed,’ the Doctor yelled over the noise. ‘We’re in a containment field. We need to get out before I can re-engage the dimensional stabilisers.’ The sound of the time rotor rose to a fever pitch, then TARDIS juddered and stilled. They looked at one another for a moment. This, Clara thought, was safer territory. Crashing into the unknown, no sweat. Unraveling their relationship? Far too complicated.

‘Right,’ he said, ‘let’s get that containment field switched off and be on our way.’

She nodded. ‘Yeah, right.’ It would never be _that_ easy. She smiled anyway and followed him out of the TARDIS. They were in an area tightly packed with machines and tech; a half dismantled engine, piles of spare parts, and a lifeless android with no arms.  

Clara squeezed through a gap, wrinkling her nose at the smell of oil and grease lingering in the air. A woman stood in the only clear space, frantically tapping on a wall panel and muttering.

‘Hello,’ Clara said, picking her way through the bay. ‘I’m Clara, this is the Doctor, and you seemed to have salvaged us.’

The woman whipped round, stared open mouthed for a moment, then spluttered, ‘What? Where?’ She squinted suspiciously. ‘Were you both in that box?’ She jabbed a finger at the TARDIS.

Clara said, ‘It’s not as cosy as it looks.’

The woman scowled. ‘Listen, I know my rights and this,’ she waved a hand toward the TARDIS, ‘is entrapment. Our legal team will make mince-meat out of a couple of maverick Time Agents pulling a stunt like this. And frankly, your timing sucks.’

The floor shook under foot. Clara stuck out her hand again, with what she hoped was a friendly smile.

‘We’re not Time Agents,’ she said. ‘What’s your name?’

‘Tia,’ the woman said, still eyeing them uncertainly.

The Doctor grumbled, ‘Judging by the sound of your engines you’ve got bigger problems. We’ll be happy to get out of your hair. Just switch off that containment field.’

‘The containment system’s locked down.’ Tia said, waving at the readings on the  panel that she had been adjusting with a blue ended tool. ‘Your box is generating paradoxical readings. Assuming you’re not Time Agents –and I’m not saying I believe you-- even if I could turn off the containment field chances are we’d be swamped with _actual_ Time Agents when they detect the illegal time-tech. Sounds like a lose-lose to me.’

‘Illegal time-tech?’ Clara raised an eyebrow at the Doctor. 

‘Some places in the backwaters of the universe got sensitive after the Time War. Set up the Time Agency to police time travel. Some outlawed the use of time travel capable vehicles altogether.’

‘And you never thought to mention it?’

He waved a dismissive hand. ‘It blows over. I usually give this sector a wide berth.’

Clara looked at the piles of shaking equipment. A half dismantled robot lurched forward and crashed into an old engine, sending circuit boards tumbling across the deck.

She said to Tia, ‘Look, we can help. He’s good with engines and stuff,’ she shot an exasperated look at Doctor’s direction, ‘usually.’

Tia shook her head as she stuffed her tool in her back pocket. ‘Too late. Jax’s on his way up, the engines are fried and the computer just vented the last of our plasma. We’re dead in space.’

A tall blue man ran into the hold then stopped dead and stared at the Doctor and Clara.

‘Who the hell are you?’ he demanded.

Tia said, ‘They say they’re not Time Agents.’

‘In four minutes they’ll be as dead as us.’

The Doctor went to the control panel and gestured to the keyboard.

‘May I?’ he asked Tia.

She shrugged. ‘Go ahead,’ she went to stand with Jax. He put his arm around her shoulder.   

After a few seconds the Doctor looked up. ‘I can disperse the containment field enough for a short hop. Clara, back in the TARDIS we’ll scan for a nearly planet or ship, then find the divergence chip. ’ He started back across the hold toward the TARDIS.

‘Doctor!’ Clara called.

He turned around. Clara nodded towards Jax and Tia, who were standing among the clattering debris. She cleared her throat and nodded again.

The Doctor said. ‘You two as well. I haven’t got all day,’

Jax looked uncertainly at the blue box sitting among the salvage. ‘What good will it do us being in that thing?’

‘You’d be surprised,’ said Clara, and led the way to the TARDIS.

 

~*~

 

Jax stumbled through the doors and into another world. ‘I knew it! I bloody well knew it. Trans-dimensional engineering _is_ possible. I told you, didn’t I?’ he said to Tia, and started grinning, running around the console room like a kid and laughing.

‘I’ve said for years, the stories are true!’ He skidded to a halt in front of the Doctor. ‘So, you’re a Time King then!’ He couldn’t believe it, here he was on an actual time ship. He felt giddy.

The Doctor said, ‘No, no a Time _Lord_.’  

‘Don’t tell me, you must be…General Gah’len? Castellan Quicksilver? The Mighty Ren?’ The stories he’d grown up on went through his head: the Kings of Time fought the evil Daleks in epic battles across time and space. He’d lived on those stories as a kid. For sure, not everyone thought the battles were epic. Some people blamed the Kings of Time as much as the Daleks, but Jax was a sucker for a cracking tale with laser blasters and high adventure, and he’d lapped up every last story. Maybe there were a few details the history books got wrong. They were Time _Lords_ , not Time Kings, for example.

The Time Lord was grumbling, ‘What? No, the Doctor, Clara told you, I’m the Doctor.’

Jax hopped from foot to foot, barely able to contain himself. ‘I know all the legends. “The March of Kastaborous.”  “Terror of the Tampering Schism.”’

The Doctor shook his head despairingly. ‘Terror of the _what_? You lot need better historians.’

Jax went on regardless, still grinning, ‘The Thief and the President’s Daughter…’

‘Actually, that one may have been me,’ the Doctor admitted, coughed, and his face redden a little. Clara raised an eyebrow. Jax just stood with his jaw hanging open.

‘Really?’ he spluttered, ‘You? You’re the thief who took a time ship, stole the President’s daughter and stopped the Time War?’ He looked back and forward between the Doctor and Clara.

‘Well not on the same day.’ The Doctor blushed and busied himself at the console. ‘The nearest vessel looks like a big luxury class liner. We’ll try to land there.’  

Jax continued to stare open mouthed at the Doctor. He was in the presence of the most vaunted Time Lord of them all: the one who stopped the Time War. Whatever else his people thought about the Time Lords, they agreed on one thing: the man who ended the Time War was a hero. And if this was the thief from the stories, then that made Clara his wife. Lucky guy.   

Then Jax saw the ship looming on the view-screen.

‘No, no, not there! That’s the _Royal Frigate_ , time-tech is-’

‘Too bad,’ the Doctor said. ‘There’s nothing else in range.’ Smoke poured through the vents into the console room, and the TARDIS shuddered.  

Jax turned to Tia, she was fighting back tears. He cursed himself silently. He was acting like a star-struck kid, while the _Grifter_ was disintegrating somewhere out there in space. Their business, their _home_ for the past three years was gone. There’d be no reason for Tia to stay with him now.    

Jax coughed and spluttered as the smoke thickened and stung his eyes. After what seemed like an age the lurching stopped.

‘Tia. I’m sorry,’ he said, but it didn’t seem like enough. He hung his head. Tia smiled sadly at him.

‘We had a good run, didn’t we? On the _Grifter_?’

He smiled and nodded with a lump in his throat. It felt like she was already saying goodbye. He didn’t have a clue what to say. 

‘Where are we?’ Clara was asking the Doctor. She was standing close to him, and they were exchanging a _look_. She flicked a button and then tapped a view-screen, but no image appeared.  Even the Time Lord was starting to cough as smoke hung in choking clouds.

‘Look, hadn’t we better clear out a while and let the TARDIS settle down?’ she said to the Doctor.

He nodded. ‘Yes, boss.’ He flicked open the doors and gestured Clara out of the TARDIS with an after-you flourish. Jax looked at Tia, and shrugged.

‘I’m sorry about your ship,’ the Doctor said. They followed him out of the TARDIS and barrelled right into Clara who had stopped abruptly. Jax looked over her shoulder. They had landed in a luggage compartment full of traveling trunks and boxes. Surrounding them were eight angry Royal Guards, in tarnished silver helmets and red cloaks. They were all armed to the teeth with deadly blast rifles.

Every last weapon was directed squarely at Clara.


	2. The Royal Frigate

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Clara is mistaken for the Doctor's wife, and their story is put to the test.

The angriest of the Royal Guards was the Chief, Irwin Gaskell. His beard was flecked with red, and his brown hair, sticking out at angles from his helmet, was red too. He’d heard stories of the Time Kings and unlike Jax, took no delight in them. The Time War blotted out billions of lives and blighted his childhood. Whole sectors disappeared. He’d survived because he and his classmates were sitting around a campfire singing on the rugged hills of Regan Four when his home planet was destroyed. He and most of his friends were orphaned that day. He hated time technology with a vengeance.   

Gaskell stepped toward the people who had tumbled out of the time ship. ‘This is a temporal violation,’ he said. ‘You’re all under arrest. The penalty for using illegal time technology is _death_.’

Jax approached him. ‘I’m Jaisen Jax, licenced salvage merchant. May I be allowed, Chief, to explain who this is?’

Gaskell shrugged. ‘I’ve heard it all before. Someone gets hold of time technology and tries to turn a profit. Time-tech is illegal in Devonian space for good reasons. It’s dangerous.’

Jax made a half bow. ‘But sir, we’re in the presence of history. This is the man who _stopped_ the Time War,’ he paused for effect, ‘the Doctor!’ The guards gasped in unison, but Gaskell was pleased to note they didn’t lower their weapons.

Clara nodded enthusiastically. ‘Yes, that’s him, he stopped the Time War. I was there.’ Well, she had been, sort of. In the barn anyway, close enough to the truth under the circumstances.  

Jax  went on, ‘Quite so! And this, obviously, is the Doctor’s lovely wife, the President’s daughter, Lady Clara.’ 

The Doctor blinked several times, and opened his mouth. Clara pressed her foot on his toe. ‘That’s absolutely right,’ she said. ‘I _am_ the President’s daughter. Now what will your royals think of this discourtesy? Put your guns away.’

Gaskell turned to the Doctor. ‘So you claim to be a Time King?’

‘Time _Lord_ actually, but yes.’

Gaskell chewed his lip. If they were telling the truth, then summary execution would be unpopular. The Royals were sensitive about these things, always thinking about their public image.

‘If, as you say, you are the Time Lord who stopped the time war then you saved countless lives in this sector.’ Gaskell stroked his beard. He watched the new comers closely. He looked at Clara, standing next to the Time Lord. She was much younger than him. It seemed a little implausible that she was his wife.

‘…and this is your wife, Lady Clara?’ Gaskell watched them closely.

Clara interjected, ‘Yes. Absolutely. I’m most definitely his wife,’ and grasped his hand.

Gaskell narrowed his eyes suspiciously.

Clara smiled. ‘If I may have a word with my husband?’ The Chief inclined his head, and watched Clara drag the Doctor behind the TARDIS.

~*~

As Clara pulled him around the TARDIS, the Doctor tried to calculate which was the more hazardous course of action, pretending to be married to Clara or admitting he wasn’t.

He didn’t much like his chances either way. ‘This is a terrible idea,’ he said.

‘So you’d rather be executed than pretend we married?’

‘Well, no. But--’ Clara tutted, then pulled the gold chain she wore round her neck from under her shirt. She unfastened it and a gold ring fell into her palm. She put the ring on her finger.

He stared blankly at her. ‘Hardly the time to accessorise.’  

‘You wear a ring, I should too. This was my mum’s.’

He’d noticed her looking at the green amber in his ring before, as if it fascinated her, but she’d never asked him about it. He frowned. ‘Why does that matter?’ 

‘Because married people wear wedding rings,’ she said, clearly exasperated.

‘Oh. Okay.’ He was going to muck this up, that was obvious. Maybe, if they were lucky, Clara could carry it off for both of them. ‘Anything else married people do I should know about?’ he asked.     

She rolled her eyes. ‘You are kidding?’

‘What do you mean?’

‘Oh god, never mind.’ She rolled her eyes and shook her head.

He rubbed the back of his neck and looked at her. The boundaries were already blurred. He’d been close to crossing a line before they crashed; a moment more and he may well have kissed her.

He was _definitely_ going to muck this up.

‘Ahem,’ Jax tapped the Doctor’s shoulder. ‘Chief Gaskell’s says we’re his guests. By ‘guests’ I think he means closely watched and not allowed to leave. And he says you should attend the Royal Gala tonight.’

A Royal Gala, this just kept getting better. Perhaps execution would have been the better option. ‘We’d just as soon be on our way…’ the Doctor said, not really thinking it would work.

Jax shook his head. ‘Oh, you can’t do that.’

Clara said, ‘Thanks, but we’re not really much into that sort of thing.’

The Doctor smiled gratefully at her, more so because he knew it was the sort of thing she would like.

Jax shook his blue head again. ‘No, I mean you _literally_ can’t go. Gaskell won’t let you until he’s convinced you’re telling the truth.’ He looked worried for a moment.  ‘You are, aren’t you?’

‘Of course!’ Clara exclaimed. ‘Why wouldn’t we be?’

Jax let out a long breath. ‘Good. Because they’ll shoot the lot of us if they think you’re lying.’

~*~

Richard, Crown Prince of the Winterlands, tall, dark, athletic, Master Falconer and Maestro of the Lyre, was bored. He was _so_ bored that he’d taken to trolling the guards, trying to get them to play him at checkers but they claimed they were too busy. Or they let him win so easily it was no fun at all. When he overheard one of Gaskell’s men say they had impounded a time capsule in the luggage hold, he couldn’t get down there fast enough.    

He strode across the deck, his blue cloak swishing behind him, past Gaskell’s men leaning idly on their weapons and gossiping. They snapped to attention when he passed.

Then he saw her.

She had long, glossy brown hair hung loose about her shoulders and eyes he could drown in. Her small frame was outlined against a strange blue box. She was a vision of loveliness. There were others with her too, and Gaskell seemed to be lecturing them, pacing up and down, tugging at his beard, trying to look important. Prince Richard straightened himself to his full five foot nine.

‘Chief Gaskell, do we have guests?’ Richard said, smiling widely, showing his _great_ teeth.

Gaskell turned, his face froze for a moment, then bowed.

‘Your Highness. We appear to be in the presence of the Time King, ahem, Lord, known as the Doctor, the…’

‘…Man who stopped the Time War,’ Richard finished for Gaskell. ‘How charming,’ he said, glancing at the Doctor, then turned to the vision of beauty standing next to him. ‘And this is?’

Gaskell cleared his throat. ‘And this is the Doctor’s _wife_ , Lady Clara.’ Richard bowed low, took Clara’s hand, kissed it gently, and held onto it.

Gaskell cleared his throat and said grandly, ‘Doctor, Lady Clara, may I present the Crown Prince, Richard Winterland.’

‘I am delighted to welcome you aboard the _Royal Frigate_ , Lady Clara. Don’t let Gaskell here bother you,’ he said. ‘You have my personal assurance your stay will be a pleasant one.’

The Time Lord coughed. ‘Just in case you missed it, Lady Clara is _my wife,’_ he said, and extricated Clara’s hand from his.

Richard bowed towards the Doctor, then gave a cursory nod to the other woman and blue man standing with them. ‘Of course, you are _all_ welcome guests here,’ he said, but barely took his eyes off Clara.

‘Now, Gaskell, I understand you have to do tiresome things like checking. But no bothering our guests.’  Richard stepped closer to Clara and whispered conspiratorially, ‘If he bothers you, just let me know.’

Clara smiled at him.

‘Thanks, I will, I’ll do that,’ she said, and her voice was like a lyre, plucking the strings of his heart.

He looked along the line of guards, but no one met his eyes. He turned to Gaskell. ‘Your men are a mess. Have them smarten up. Full inspection in an hour. And arrange suitable accommodation for our guests.’ After a final, long lingering look at Clara, he swept from the luggage bay. This trip just got _much_ more interesting.

~*~

Gaskell watched Prince Richard leave then turned back to the newcomers. His would be the best job in the sector, but for the damn Royals. Prince Richard in love again! He’d lost count of the number of irate fathers and husbands he’d paid off or intimidated into silence, depending on their rank. But this time it might work in his favour. What would the Prince’s attentions rattle loose?  

He gestured one of his men to guard the time capsule.

‘Nothing gets on or off until I say so,’ he said, and turned to the four travellers. ‘My men will ensure the security of your ship. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’ll arrange your accommodation. The Time Lord looked as if he were about to speak, then closed his mouth again. Gaskell turned without another word, and strode from the luggage hold.

When he was clear of the hold, he unclipped the communicator from his belt and spoke. ‘Elwick my office, now, I have a job for you.’

Then he switched to a sub-space channel. His contact at the Time Agency would check out this story. Something smelled bad, he was sure of it.

‘Sabbath? I need a favour. I need information on a Time Lord known as the Doctor.’

There was a long pause before a voice replied, ‘The records are unreliable. All the data about the Doctor was wiped, we think at some time during his eleventh life time. We’re re-building, but it’s patchy.’

‘Do your best,’ Gaskell said. Between the Prince, Elwick and Sabbath’s intel, something would show up. Then he’d remind everyone just how dangerous time technology was. There was nothing like a public execution to drive the message home.

 ****~*~

Clara watched Gaskell leave, then found a large case to sit on. A stiff faced guard blocked their way to the TARDIS, and the rest of them seemed to be dashing around polishing things.

She looked at the Doctor, pacing like a caged animal. He stopped to fiddle morosely with a luggage crane, making it swing back and forth along its rails across the ceiling. He was lining up to make a grab at an ornately decorated suitcase when one of the guards, tutting and shaking his head, took the remote control from his hands.

The Time Lord grumbled and wandered off across the hold. Clara sighed. Could he _concentrate_ long enough to pretend to be married, _and_ get through a gala without insulting the Royals? She didn’t rate their chances. He’d looked like he wanted to rip poor Prince Richard’s head off. She knew he was anti-monarchy, but that was a bit much.

Tia hovered nearby, her shoulders sagged. Clara shifted so she could sit down. Here she was feeling sorry for herself when Tia had just lost everything.

‘I am sorry about your ship. What will you do now?’

‘I don’t know,’ Tia said. She looked around the luggage hold, at the Doctor, then at Clara. ‘He’s the jealous type, your husband?’

‘What are you talking about?’

‘When Prince Richard was ogling you.’

‘No. Jealous? No, he just doesn’t much like Royals. He says they’re a useless strata-’

‘Yeah, so he always has steam coming out of his ears when men talk to you?’

‘Not usually. Maybe once, when…’  Clara swallowed hard. She was suddenly back at Coal Hill school, and the Doctor wore a brown janitors jacket.

“You’ve explained me to him, now explain him to me,” he said darkly.

“You’ve made a boyfriend error,” he complained. 

‘Oh my god,’ Clara muttered, and looked over at the Doctor, who was still pacing the luggage hold, twisting the ring on his finger. Was he _jealous_ back then?

She was dimly aware of Tia talking. ‘Well he has every right to be a jealous. He is your husband. And you need to watch that Prince Richard, they say…’ Tia talked on, but Clara was barely listening.

The Doctor hated Danny at first, he didn’t hide it, but surely that was because he was soldier. Then he’d gone to hell to help her get him back, even though she’d betrayed him. He forgave her.

            “Do you think I care for you so little, betraying me would make a difference?”

She felt a lump rise in her throat; this was dangerous territory. It would be hard enough, without bringing up _complications_. A diversion was in order.

‘So, you and Jax then. Will you get another ship?’

‘We’re not, I mean we’re business partners. With the _Grifter_ gone there’s no reason to…we’re just friends,’ Tia finished the sentence lamely.

Clara looked at the Doctor again, a two thousand year old Gallifreyan fussing around the deck like a teen with attention challenges. She wondered, not for the first time, what it was about him that was so addictive.

‘He’s an alien,’ Clara muttered.

‘What?’ Tia sounded shocked.

Clara jolted, and looked back at Jax. ‘I mean, he’s, well, blue. You’re…not blue.’

‘Why does that matter? That’s a very old-world thing to say. Falling for someone doesn’t depend on the colour of their skin, does it?’

‘God, no. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean…’ Clara was suitably abashed. When you put it like that, Tia was right. Same principles underneath, that’s what mattered. She was flustered and hot faced, and when the Doctor walked over to her, he frowned.

‘You okay?’

‘Yeah, I’m fine. Fine,’ she said. She looked past him, and to her relief, another distraction presented itself. A small red skinned man, his face and hands covered in black tipped spikes, was approaching them. He had a clipboard under one arm, and pen in the other hand.

The Doctor turned to see what she was looking at. ‘Bannakaffalata?’ he exclaimed, frowning.

‘No. I am Elwick. Chief Gaskell assigned me as your personal adjutant. Why do you call me this, Bannakaffalata?’

‘I once met someone just like you called Bannakaffalata.’

‘You met one Zocci and think we all look the same?’

‘Well--’ the Doctor began, but Clara pressed her foot on his as she stood up. He looked up at her. ‘I mean, No. I respect every member of your cultural group as an individual and can see very clearly that you are not all alike,’ he intoned, then looked at Clara.  She smiled. He was internalising the cards, that was progress.  

Elwick raised his clipboard and, careful to conceal it from view, jotted something down.

~*~

Elwick showed Jax and Tia to separate rooms then took Clara and the Doctor by lift to another level. He opened the door to the suite and hovered.

The room was plush and deeply carpeted. In the centre was a large bed covered with a counterpane delicately embroidered with a falcon and a lyre, symbols of the house of Winterland. There were paintings on three walls, and a large picture window out into space on the other. The room was almost bigger than Clara’s entire flat. She sat on the bed for a moment, grinning, then jumped up and disappeared into the bathroom. A deep white bath with gold taps and golden curled feet stood in the centre of the room, white fluffy towels hung by the side.    

She dashed back out into the bedroom. ‘This is lovely!’

The Doctor was sitting dubiously on the edge of the bed, back ramrod straight, hands flat on the bedspread.  

Elwick said, ‘For honoured guests, nothing is too much trouble. I will come back in one hour, Lady Clara, and we can attend to your clothes for tonight.’ He bowed his head, and left.

The Doctor slipped on his sonic glasses, and looked around the room. ‘No bugs or hidden cameras,’ he said, his voice still low and uncertain.  

Clara sat on the bed next to him. ‘That’s a relief.’ She looked at the ceiling, watching him out of the corner of her eye. ‘This is a turn up then. The Devonian’s think we’re married.’

‘And I suppose they better carry on thinking that if we don’t want a close encounter with Gaskell’s blast rifle,’ he said gruffly. He didn’t move.

There was an uncomfortable silence.  

She started to say, ‘Well, it shouldn’t be too hard,’ as he said, ‘This is going to be tricky.’

They lapsed into silence again.

‘The Prince seems nice,’ she ventured.

‘He seems like a pompous nitwit.’

‘ _Nitwit_? Is that the best insult you can manage?’

More silence. He shifted uncomfortably on the bed. She crossed her legs.

Eventually she asked, ‘What’s the story with you and the President’s daughter then?’

He scoffed, ‘Well it’s not what this lot think.’

‘That’s not an answer,’ she said, but it looked like it was the only one she was going to get. Silence again. This was getting silly. ‘Look, I’m going to make the most of being in this luxurious space hotel. I’m going to have a bath.’

‘What, you’re going to take your clothes off and get in that, that…’

‘Doctor, I don’t know how you do it on Gallifrey, but that’s how we humans _wash_.’

He spluttered, ‘I’ll just stay here then.’

‘I assumed you would.’

‘Good. Because this is me, staying here.’ He jumped up and started examining the paintings. She glared at his back. He was infuriating. Back on the TARDIS it seemed like he was giving her bedroom eyes, now he was acting like she was toxic. He _was_ an alien. Perhaps she’d never understand him. She huffed and went into the bathroom closing the door firmly behind her without looking back.

~*~

The Doctor stared at the oil painting on the wall of the suite. It was a copy of an ancient Earth work of art, based on a Greek legend. Funny how these things travelled across millennia and galaxies. The universality of myths was an entertaining diversion some days; not so funny to be caught up in the middle of on. This particular picture was a production of Tantalus reaching for the forbidden fruit, a fine metaphor for his current predicament. 

He heard the taps running. He was tempted to take himself off. If he were on the TARDIS he’d arrange to be a very long way away, but he wouldn’t leave the room unattended while she was in the bath with Prince Lecherous hanging around.

He idly picked up the remote control unit that operated the blinds on the viewing window and turned it over in his hands. Then he took the back off to expose the circuits. Maybe he could make something useful while he was waiting. At  least it would give him something to do.

~*~

Within the hour, Elwick returned. Clara glanced at the Doctor, who had ignored, or not heard the knock at the door, leaving her to scramble back into her clothes and answer it. Now he was standing at the window looking out into deep space, fiddling with the remote control unit that operated the blinds.

She said, ‘Er, love, I’ll just pop off to the wardrobe department then?’ He nodded absently over his shoulder, not turning towards her. Clara stared at his back for a moment and wondered what on Earth was going through that Time Lord brain of his. She sighed and followed Elwick out of the room.

~*~

As the Doctor heard the door to the room swish shut, he put the remote unit in his pocket and turned to the spot where she had just been standing.

Clara, the mayfly, flitting in and out of his life. Guiding him toward better choices, helping him be a good man, then disappearing back to her everyday life. He laughed sadly. Mayfly? More like he was the moth to her flame, hovering on the edge of getting burned. Because one way or another the time would come when she’d be gone. 

 _Just friends, that’s all_. That rule kept him safe, more or less, for a long time now. But the layers he’d wrapped around his hearts were wearing dangerously thin. And just when he should shut himself away at Saint John’s to silently contemplate the value of solitude, he had to pretend to be married to Clara. Oh, the universe did like a good joke. 

He sat on the floor, cross legged, took a deep breath, and closed his eyes.

After an indeterminable period of meditation, he got restless. He left the room, but before he had gone more than a few paces, Elwick blocked his way.

‘Where’s Clara?’ he asked the small red man.

Elwick consulted his clipboard. ‘Ah. I’m sorry. She’s been scheduled for extermination.’

There was a lurch in his chest. ‘What?’ he bent over Elwick menacingly. ‘They call me the predator, the oncoming storm. If you know the stories, then believe me when I say if you do not return Clara to me, safely, at once-’

Elwick consulted his clipboard. ‘I am sorry. Did I say _extermination_?’ He squinted and looked up apologetically. ‘I meant _exfoliation._ Followed by a facial and a manicure. How silly of me. I apologise.’ He turned and left the Doctor steaming in the corridor. When he got round the corner he paused and wrote something on his list.

~*~

Clara relaxed as the manicurist began a second coat of nail polish. Her beautician was called Tolly, and seemed to be of the same race as Jax, only as tall and muscle-bound as he was, Tolly was petite. She also seemed to be excited about absolutely everything.

‘So you’re going to meet the Prince!’

‘Um, yeah. At the Gala.’

‘I know!’ exclaimed Tolly in her squeaky voice. ‘I’ve done a hundred and fifty sets of decals this week. And I had a unimaginable run on glitter!’

Clara relaxed and let Tolly twitter on. Her skin felt silky smooth, and she was dressed in a wonderful white robe that felt like an all over hug. And the dress she’d picked out was stunning, if she did say so herself. Getting the VIP treatment certainly had advantages. But pretending to be married to the Doctor? Things were complicated enough between them at the moment. Judging by his earlier huff he was hardly overjoyed at the prospect.

Elwick popped his head around the door of the saloon.

‘I’m sorry to disturb you, Lady Clara, but it would seem your husband has wandered off.’

Clara smiled, but wasn’t concerned. ‘He does that.’

‘He’s gone down to the _lower decks._ ’

‘Oh?’

‘Unfortunately there’s been a power outage down there. And there’s the infestation.’

Clara’s eyes widened in alarm. ‘Infestation? Of what?’

‘Killer Bats.’

‘He’s in the dark, no power, with _Killer_ Bats?’

‘Yes. And the rouge android.’

‘Why aren’t you looking for him?’

‘Oh, it’s far too dangerous while the power’s off. We’ll send a crew in the morning, when it’s fixed…’

Clara leapt up from the chair, much to Tolly’s alarm.  ‘What? You are kidding? Right, get me a torch and I’ll bloody well go myself!’

Elwick smiled, as if she had passed some kind of test. He tapped his ear, where a small communication device was nestled. ‘Oh,’ he said, ‘There’s a message. False alarm, it wasn’t the lower levels he went to at all, it was the _library_.’ Clara flopped back into the chair in relief.

There was definitely _something_ up here. She’d travelled with the Doctor long enough to know a set up when she was in one.

Tolly finished her work and smiled broadly at her. Clara made a show of inspecting her nails. ‘This is fab. I don’t suppose I could have a pot of this to take away?’

‘Of course, Lady Clara!’ the young woman exclaimed, and trotted off to the back of the boutique. Clara picked up the manicure scissors and slipped them in her pocket. Just in case.  

~*~

Elwick paused in the corridor outside the boutique and scribbled something on his list. As he stood writing a pair of the Royal Guards bumped carelessly past him, one with a shiny bald dome and paunch, the young one spotty and skinny as a sapling. They both sauntered along with their helmets under their arms. 

‘Hoi, small red, didn’t see you there,’ said the older guard.

The skinny one snickered and said, ‘Ow, he prickled me!’ and jumped about comically, even though he didn’t make contact with Elwick at all.

‘Do you mind?’ Elwick said, trying to hide his irritation. The Royal Guards were certified oiks.

‘Oh, sorry. Must get on your _wick_ , being so hard to spot! Does it make you _short_ tempered?’ The guards laughed heartily and continued on their way. Elwick resolved to rise above it and be the bigger man, and there was more than a little irony in that.    

~*~

Gaskell watched video footage of the Doctor pacing up and down the corridor, and captured a close up image of his face. He attached it to a file, and sent it to Sabbath the Time Agency. Sometime in his eleventh life, the Doctor arranged for all traces of himself to be erased. Sabbath was re-creating him from the hole he left behind, piece by piece.

Time Lords had twelve regenerations, thirteen lives, while everyone else had to settle for one, and some barely got that. He picked up the picture of his parents and baby sister. She’d been just six months old when the Time Lord’s war had taken them.

His mother’s mantra had always been, “Forgive and Forget.” She had often said, ‘Let it go, Irwin,’ when he came home furious about a hard tackle on the sports field, or some other unfairness. But Gaskell thought forgiveness over-rated. _Revenge_ was much more satisfying.   

 


	3. The Royal Gala

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Doctor and Clara attend the Royal Gala, and suffer bouts of jealousy when their story is tested further.

After the wardrobe master had fussed around her like a pageant winner, Clara felt every bit a lady as she walked back to the suite. She’d been pampered and coiffured, and supplied with a magnificent dress. It was a full length, deep red, and showed just enough cleavage to be interesting, the wardrobe master had said. She pushed open the door to their suite and stepped through on the dangerously high stiletto heels.

‘Doctor, are you decent?’ she whispered. He turned, and stood blinking at her for a moment. He was wearing a dashing black suit. She didn’t quite know what to say for a moment, she just stood in the doorway, staring.

‘You look nice, Doctor,’ she managed, her heart fluttering.   

‘Clara,’ he said, staring right back at her. Then he seemed to catch himself and muttered. ‘Have you brushed your hair?’

‘No! Well, it’s been brushed, and look, they gave me this dress, and… oh, never mind!’ she said, her buoyant mood crushed. ‘Let’s just get on with convincing everyone we’re married, shall we, and then we can go.’

He looked a bit crushed himself. She sighed: he really was impossible. She offered a conciliatory arm, which he took, and as he did he bent sideways. She jumped as she felt his breath unexpectedly on her cheek.

‘You do look lovely, Clara,’ he whispered, almost as if the words snuck out. Then he added in a jocular tone, ‘You know, I think it’s supposed to be other way around. You take _my_ arm.’

Clara laughed. ‘It really isn’t,’ she said, but extracted her arm and threaded it through his anyway. They looked at one another for a moment, locked eyes, and her heart fluttered a little more. She could feel her face reddening. He looked flushed too, as he glanced at her dress. His mouth opened and closed again.  

‘I don’t think I know how to do this, Clara,’ he eventually said.

That must have cost him, admitting there was something he didn’t know. ‘Of course we can do this,’ she said. ‘Stay in role. Think ‘husband,’ it’ll be fine.’

‘Okay, think husband.’ He paused, then said, ‘What do husbands think about?’

‘Football and beer, mainly.’

‘In that case I’ll be a terrible husband.’

‘Good. I don’t want a husband who spends his time in the pub watching football. I want a man who’ll show me the stars,’ she said. He stared at her, but whatever he was about to say was lost when there was a knock at the door and Elwick stepped in without waiting for an answer.

‘Follow me,’ he said, ‘I present you to our distinguished guests.’ He waddled off up the corridor. There was nothing else for it but to follow, arm in arm, to the Royal Gala.

The banquet suite aboard the Royal Frigate was a sight to behold. A ballroom spread before them, complete with chandeliers and black suited waiters with silver trays. The great, powerful and stylish citizens of the sector were dancing in circles or standing in polite chatter around the room. Many heads turned as the Doctor and Clara walked into the room.

Elwick announced, ‘May I have your attention! I am pleased to introduce the saviour of our sector, The Doctor, and his lovely wife, Lady Clara.’ More heads turned and applause rippled through the room.

‘Doctor,’ Clara said nervously, ‘Everyone’s looking at us.’

‘Oh, I think they’re looking at _you_ ,’ he said.

Clara stared at him. That was the second unexpected compliment in ten minutes. He _was_ taking the role to heart.

~*~

The band struck up a fine tune, Elwick, on a mission, approached Prince Richard. The Prince was hovering in front of a guided mirror, smoothing his hair.

‘My Lord, Lady Clara and the Doctor have arrived.’

Prince Richard smiled, smoothed his hair one last time, and puffed up his chest.

Elwick continued, ‘If I might inform your Highness of an important Time Lord custom? It would be considered a snub if you _didn’t_ dance with Lady Clara.’

‘It would?’

‘Yes. And you must whisk her away without consulting her husband. Asking is considered quite rude.’

‘Really?’

‘Odd customs, Time Lords.’

Richard needed very little encouragement to dance with the lovely Clara. He strode across the dance floor, scattering couples left and right, and swooped on her. He took her Champagne glass from her hand, passed it to the Doctor with a wink, and twirled her away to the sounds of the finest band in the sector.

Clara exclaimed, ‘Your highness!’ but her feet, in those dainty shoes, kept pace with him effortlessly.

‘Lady Clara, I believe you are the finest dancer in this room!’

‘And you are an outrageous flirt!’

‘Yes, but I am also heir to three fiefdoms and have the biggest castle in the kingdom,’ he said, as he twirled her to the full stretch of his arm. Her red dress splayed like a flower as she spun. He paused and looked her deep in the eyes. ‘Your husband is an old man with a small blue box.’

‘Do they call you Prince Show-Off?’

‘Not to my face. But let’s be honest, I do have rather a lot to show off about.’ He winked, and as he smiled Clara expected a silver star to sparkle in his tooth. She couldn’t suppress a giggle. He really _was_ the most ridiculous person she’d met in a very long time. He swept her up again, and two-stepped her across the dance floor, guiding her deliberately. Then he twirled and dipped her again, and as she laughed and swung backwards she saw he’d placed them in the Doctor’s line of sight. Upside down, she caught sight of his crossed arms and furious eyebrows before Richard whisked her up and away across the dance floor again.  

**~*~**

The Doctor was tapping his foot at a furious rate. Elwick watched him closely and said, ‘Prince Richard is a Maestro of the Lyre, they say he handles the instrument like no other.’

‘He should keep his hands on his own instrument and off my wife!’ the Doctor spluttered. He tried to calm down. They were guests here. If Clara wanted to dance with a clump-headed narcissistic minor royal, who was he to stop her? He uncrossed his arms and crossed them again. The Prince’s hands were sliding slowly down Clara’s back, edging ever closer to…

He turned away. If he didn’t look then maybe…

No, it was no good. Tonight, he was her husband, and that gave him _every_ right to punch Prince Wandering-Hands on the nose, didn’t it? Before he knew it he was halfway across the dance floor.

‘Ahem,’ he tapped Richard on the shoulder, glared at the young fool with the full force of his eyebrows. Prince Richard’s eyes widened. He wasn’t a man who’d had to fight anything, especially not a Time King with a fearsome reputation. He bowed and relinquished Clara’s hand.

The Doctor took Clara’s hand, relieved Richard hadn’t put him to the test. He led her back to their table. ‘Prince Charming was getting a bit fresh.’

Her eyes flashed, ‘Are you _jealous_?’

‘Why would I be jealous of some pointless half-brained toff who can’t keep his hands to himself. I am not jealous. I’m _never_ jealous,’ he said emphatically as he sat down.   

Clara snorted as she pulled out a chair. ‘Never jealous? So, before we were, er, married, why did you keep parking the TARDIS in my bedroom?’

‘Now? You want to discuss that now?’

Clara glared and crossed her arms.

Prince Richard walked across the dance floor, smiled at Clara with his perfect teeth, and the Doctor felt a sudden urge to smash them down his smarmy throat.

‘Okay, fine. Even then, before we were _married_ I couldn’t stand the thought of anyone else touching you. I used to park in your bedroom so you’d never bring anyone back. Happy?’ he almost spat the words at her. Her shoulders tensed and he was sorry as soon as he’d said it. She looked far from happy. Her eyes were doing the inflating thing.

She whispered, ‘And now?’

He was an idiot, but he was an honest idiot. He reached out and touched her shoulder. ‘Oh Clara, I’m sorry. Now it’s a thousand times worse.’

She put her hand over his, smiled at him, and that smile made his hearts melt. For some reason he couldn’t fathom, these days she didn’t hold his idiotic antics against him.

‘I’m sorry. I wouldn’t stop travelling with you, not for a hundred Prince Richards, you know that, right?’ He let his breath out slowly, and nodded. That that was enough, he told himself.  As long as she stayed, that would have to be enough.

**~*~**

Elwick perched on a bar stool and nodded in satisfaction as he watched the Doctor and Clara argue and make up. He added to the list pinned on his clipboard.

He didn’t see her come in, but a woman with a bounce of blond hair was suddenly at his side. ‘Mr. Elwick?’ she said, and smiled. She was a good choice. Mature, attractive, busty, and her agent said she could act her socks off. Perfect.

‘Ms. Corday. You have details of the job?’

She nodded. ‘Where’s the guy?’ Elwick pointed at the Doctor. Ms Corday smiled appreciatively ‘Him? Oh, he _is_ a sweetie.’

‘I also need you to take his glasses. He has them in his top inside pocket.’

‘Oh, it would be my pleasure,’ she said.

The Doctor and Clara were deep in conversation. ‘Wait until his wife’s gone, then make your move.’ Ms Corday nodded, went to the bar to get herself a drink, and waited.

**~*~**

The evening spun on in a sea of enchanting and beautiful faces, elegant dresses, formal suits and fine wine. When Clara returned from powdering her nose, the Doctor wasn’t at their table. She glanced around the dance floor. He was dancing! With a _woman_. A rather attractive woman: blond, bubbly, a bombshell in a black and gold dress, and laughing coquettishly at everything he said. She was slipping her hands _inside_ his jacket to hold him while they danced. Clara crossed her legs and looked away.

Why should she care if the Doctor dances?

She chewed a fingernail, examined the chandelier, and found her eyes irresistibly drawn to the dance floor. They were still dancing, his hand on her back. He looked gracious, charming, and smiling. He was dashing in that black suit with his silver curls and owlish smile.

A rumble in the back of her throat threatened to grow into a growl. Elwick was suddenly at her side. ‘Is everything alright, Lady Clara? You seem unsettled.’

‘Who does she think she is, dancing with my husband like that?’ Clara demanded, gesturing the interloper.

‘She’s a national treasure, charity worker, film star. She has two Golden Globes, you know, the greatest accolade for actors.’

‘She can keep her golden globes away from my husband!’ Clara looked around the room. She needed a plan.

Prince Richard slid into the seat beside her and shot her a gleaming smile. ‘Lady Clara. Can I whisk you away?’ He leaned closer. ‘Will you sail with me across the Infinite Lake of Stars? I will wrap you in fine furs and make you my queen,’ he declared. Clara blinked several times.

‘Thanks, but I don’t want to be a queen.’

The Prince went down on one knee. ‘How can you refuse me? This Doctor, he is an old man, and you are-’

Clara squashed her finger on his lips. ‘You can stop right there, Prince Charming. I’ll _never_ leave the Doctor.’

The Prince deflated in front of her. ‘Then my poor life, such as it is, is over,’ he said dramatically.

Clara sighed, this really was quite ridiculous. ‘You know what though, that woman over there, currently dancing with my husband, was looking at you.’

‘She was?’ He squinted and the dancing pair. ‘That’s not Liz Corday, surely?’

‘One and the same. And she’s just marking time with the Doctor. She really wants to dance with _you_.’ The Prince puffed up again, got to his feet.

‘I know how to cut in the traditional Gallifreyan way,’ he said.

‘Jolly good. Off you go.’ Clara said, and followed as he straightened his tie, made for the dance floor, and wheeled the startled Ms. Corday away from the Doctor. Clara deftly placed herself in the Doctor’s arms as soon as Ms. Corday vacated the spot.

‘Enjoying yourself?’ she said stiffly.

‘Actually, she was a very interesting woman. Does a lot of work for charity. . .’ Clara snorted and flicked her hair. ‘What? he went on, bemused ‘She was very…’ He looked closely at her, narrowing his eyes. ‘Did that _bother_ you?’

‘No!’ she said. He was smiling, as if _liked_ the fact that she was bothered. She had to admit, she was a bit bothered, but she said, ‘I just thought it was bad for our cover. We should dance together.’

‘For cover?’ he said, and spun her and caught her once again. The music changed tempo, and they danced on, found a rhythm of their own.

After a while, she said, slightly surprised, ‘You’ve been holding out on me. I didn’t know you could dance.’

He said softly in her ear, ‘I’m more than two thousand years old, Clara, I can dance. I just haven’t danced with _you_.’

‘Oh!’ she blushed. ‘We should. Dance. We should dance, Doctor,’ she was gabbling. She stopped talking and let him spin her, pull her close and then spin her some more, and they danced until they were breathless. The music faded and Clara spun a final time out to his finger tips and back into his arms. He was smiling, and it was dazzling. Maybe she was still spinning because his eyes drew her in. She could smell his scent, sandalwood and something she could never place, all she could see was his face, no one else in the room mattered. Impulsively, she stood on tiptoes and gently kissed his lips.

He smiled as she pulled back slightly. ‘Clara,’ he murmured, and she was under his spell. He pulled her close again, and kissed her, and this time it sent a sweet rush through her body. The chatter in the ballroom faded as another song began, but everything was distant. He kissed her deeply, and it wasn’t chaste. This kiss had been a long time coming, and it took her breath away. She pressed herself closer to him and his arms enveloped her.

When the kiss broke she didn’t want to move. A slow tune started, she rested her face against his chest and they started a gentle shuffle around the dance floor, still pressed together. After a while, a long while, a short while, she couldn’t tell, his feet stopped moving. She looked up.

‘Clara, the music’s stopped,’ he said. She looked around, the dance floor was clear, and the band had put their instruments down.

‘We should probably stop too then,’ she wobbled a little on her high heels. He steadied her with a hand on her back, and they walked off the dance floor. Elwick was still hovering, but she noted thankfully, neither Prince Richard nor Ms. Golden Globes were anywhere to be seen.  

Clara asked Elwick, ‘Have you seen Jax and Tia?’

‘I’m afraid they had a disagreement and didn’t come. You are scheduled to take breakfast together.’ Elwick lead them across the dance floor, toward the exit.

‘Don’t you get an evening off?’ Clara said. ‘It’s very late.’

‘Chief Gaskell says time off is for the weak-minded.’

‘He certainly keeps you busy, with that clipboard. I’ve never seen you without it,’ Clara said.

‘Tools of the trade, Lady Clara. I must keep track of so many things.’

‘It’s a bit low-tech, isn’t it?’

‘Sometimes the straight-forward ways are the best.’ Elwick escorted them to their room, if walking behind someone can be called escorting. Clara had an uncomfortable feeling his eyes were on her back. She took the Doctor’s hand, threaded her fingers through his, just in case Elwick needed any more convincing. In case he missed the kiss. That kiss! Her heart fluttered again at the thought of it.

She had a feeling things were about to get even more complicated.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bonus points to anyone who spots the hidden identity of Liz Corday, answers in a comment box...


	4. No Big Deal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Doctor and Clara discover their room may be bugged, so they have to keep up the pretense of being married. Of course, that means they will have to share a bed, but they have been friends a long time, it's no big deal...

 

Clara and the Doctor stood at the door of their suite. Elwick bid them goodnight with a smile, tucked his clipboard under his arm, and hurried off.

The Doctor stared at the door, then searched his pockets. ‘My glasses have gone.’ Without another word he opened the door, pulled her through the bedroom and into the bathroom, turned the bath taps on full bore and then wrapped her in his arms.

She gasped and her heart raced, was he going to kiss her again?

He spoke softly into her ear, ‘I don’t want to worry you, but someone’s been in this room. The hair I trapped in the door’s gone. We may be bugged now, without the sonic glasses I can’t check.’

She let her breath out slowly. He was being careful, that was all. He stood very still, stiffly even. It reminded her, unhappily, of their early hugs. The kiss had scared him. Perhaps he regretted it. She had to put him at ease, it was terrible to see him this tense.

‘Look, that kiss, it’s okay. It was just for show. I get that,’ she whispered. His body stayed taught, coiled like spring. ‘Please. Please don’t do this,’ she begged. This pretence was turning everything upside down. What was she supposed to do?

Get him to focus on something, to plan. He was best when he had something to do.

‘What do we do, Doctor? If there’s a bug in here, how do we beat it if we can’t find it?’ He relaxed very slightly in her arms.

‘We just keep pretending. You can do that, can’t you? Pretend?’ There was a tightness to his voice.

She felt the burst of energy she had on the dance floor slip away. He’d been pretending. Now he was embarrassed. ‘Of course, pretend. Let’s just get through tonight. We can share a bed. We’ve been friends long enough. It’s no big deal.’

‘No big deal,’ he echoed.

‘Okay. They left some night things on the bed, I’ll get changed, you come out in five minutes, then I’ll come back in here. Then we’re both ready for bed, no blushes.’ Clearly, the idea of being closer to her horrified him, and she was furious with herself for thinking that kiss meant something more. Well, she would make it easy for him. 

‘Clara--’

‘Stop it. I trust you, okay. If that’s what you’re worried about, don’t. You’re my best friend, and I trust you.’ She hoped _that_ would make things clear enough. She wrestled herself from his grip and hurried out of the bathroom before he could see she was blinking back tears.

**~*~**

The Doctor lay in the bed, feeling ridiculous in a pair of satin pyjamas, and stared unhappily at the ceiling. “I trust you,” she’d said. That was all very well, but could he trust himself?

Christmas turned everything upside down. Missing her life hit him like a tonne of bricks. She more or less told him he was the one for her, the one she’d have married, didn’t she? Then she kissed him chastely on the cheek and ran away with him in her nighty. If _that_ wasn’t the mother of all mixed messages then he was the _Flying Scotsman_.

Now, the sands were shifting again. The image of Clara dancing with Prince Richard the Ridiculous came to mind. It had been a _very_ long time since he’d wanted to thump anyone, but Prince Chump-Head earned that dubious honour. It didn’t make him feel any better. Is that what his feelings for Clara would drive him to? 

He heard the bathroom door open. She paused for a moment at the bedside, long enough for him to see how the silk nightdress cling to her, and lace frame the V of her neckline, before she slipped under the covers beside him. He took a deep breath. Things were complicated enough. He needed her a ridiculous amount, and one day, one way or another, she wouldn’t be there anymore. And what then? No, his job was to fight monsters, not notice things like _silk_ and _lace_.

He closed his eyes and pictured the most repulsive Slitheen he could imagine. Perhaps, if he lay still, eyes closed, she would think he was asleep and not speak. If she didn’t speak, he wouldn’t need to look at her. And if he didn’t look at her, maybe, just maybe, they could survive this mess with their friendship and his dignity intact.

‘Doctor. I know you’re not asleep,’ she said.

Of course she knew. This was Clara. She was in his head, she knew. Yet she didn’t, not really, and maybe that would save him. She thought the kiss was a ploy to convince Gaskell they were married. He certainly hadn’t _meant_ to kiss her like that, but as soon as her lips touched his he was under her spell. What if he kissed her again? Damn! Now he was thinking of kissing her, and there were a hundred and one ways that could end badly.

‘Doctor, are you not speaking to me?’ she said, sounding hurt.

Could he _possibly_ make this any worse? ‘Of course not. I’m just thinking. About. . . a Slitheen.’

Clara coughed. ‘Why on earth are you doing that? Couldn’t you find anything else to think about?’

There, he insulted her now. If he opened his mouth a bit wider he could probably get the other foot in there too. ‘I was thinking about…this ring. I got the amber from Raxocoricofallapatorious.’

‘Raxocrocifo… where the Sithleen come from?’ _Now_ she was propped on her elbow, touching his hand, a thin layer of silk and lace barely covering her. It was safest to just keep looking at the ceiling. He most certainly was _not_ going to roll over and look at that lace.

‘Is it a wedding ring? You know, when you stole the President’s daughter?’ she whispered.

‘No, I’ve actually not had it very long. It reminds me of things I’ve won and things I’ve lost. Wars, places…people I care about.’

He gently moved his hand away from hers. He laced his fingers tightly together, and laid his hands on his own chest, determined they would stay there, far, far away from the lace, and the silk, and Clara. He needed to centre himself.

‘Clara, please, let’s just go to sleep.’ He heard her sigh, felt the bed move as she lay flat again. He rolled over to turn out the light on the bedside table, and stayed as far over that side of the mattress as he could. He heard her sniff quietly in the darkness and at that moment he didn’t feel like a good man. He closed his eyes, to the intrusive image of a fat Slitheen in a lacy silk night dress.

It was going to be a _very_ long night.

Hours later, he was in a half-dream, an intoxicating place full of Clara. He could smell a trace of apple from her hair. Her lips were soft and warm against his. After a moment of hesitation her lips parted and her tongue slid into his mouth. She was pressed full against him, that thin layer of silk barely separating them now. His hands tugged her nightdress and found soft skin beneath. She moaned quietly. He was lost, quite lost.

He breathed her name.

Clara, his impossible girl.

Clara, beautiful, strong, brave, funny.

Clara, so right for him.

Yet she was _not_ his. How could she be? This was a dark desire he should keep buried in the murky corners of his mind.

He had no right.

He forced himself fully awake.

She was in his arms, legs intertwined with his, murmuring softly.

He was flushed and sweating. Damn! How could he have been so stupid? His low level telepathic abilities coupled with close proximity and early morning hormones induced a shared dream state.

Gods, he was an idiot. He should have warned her, at least. He tried to move away, so he wasn’t pressing himself against her, but she murmured discontentedly and moved closer. She was breathing fast, flushed, her closed eyelids fluttering rapidly as if she were still dreaming. Which was odd, because he was awake now, any shared dream should be severed. Unless her mind picked up where his left off…

He became aware of a spiky red presence with a clipboard at eye level.

‘What are you doing? My wife is sleeping.’

Elwick turned his head apologetically. ‘Breakfast in one hour, sir.’

The Doctor looked for something to throw, but the small man was already gone. He looked down at Clara, she was stirring, hair mussed against the pillow, cheeks flushed red. She would wake up and know _exactly_ what he’d done. He took a moment to ponder, sadly, how easily the words “my wife” rolled off his tongue. Then he sighed, swallowed hard, and prepared for whatever punishment was due a Time Lord who should know better, who took advantage of his best friend in her sleep.

**~*~**

Outside the suite, Elwick paused and wrote on the list secured to his clipboard. He had to admit, their story held up well. These two were deeply in love, any fool could see that. He made his way wearily back to his quarters. Perhaps he could catch a couple of hours rest now. Gaskell had him up all night, first trying to get into that blue box where the guards had already failed, which turned out to be hopeless. Then Gaskell had him polishing the guard’s boots, and the lazy oafs hadn’t cleaned them for days. The Prince’s jibes sent Gaskell into a rage and Elwick caught full force of it. Elwick wondered, not for the first time, why he stayed on the Royal Frigate at all. 

**~*~**

‘What was that?’ Clara asked sleepily as she woke. The first thing she noticed was that she was in the Doctors arms. The second thing she noticed was that his early morning presentation was the same as any other man. When he gallantly tried to move that part of him away from her she made a very serious deal with herself not to laugh at him, but soon realised she was more than a little aroused herself. God, that dream! It was so vivid. She flushed as she thought of it, blurting out ‘Did you dream that too?’ before realising a far better strategy would be to ignore the whole thing.

He looked mortified. ‘Clara, I’m so sorry. It was a shared telepathic state, it happens sometimes…Honestly, I woke up before anything…’ He sat upright and put his head in his hands.

She sat up too, aware of two _more_ things, firstly that she _hadn’t_ woken up before things got interesting and she wasn’t a bit sorry, and secondly, with the room likely bugged, everything they said might be over heard. She sat up too, took his hand, and looked into his eyes hoping he would catch on.

‘Honey, we’re married, it’s no big deal. Nothing we haven’t done lots of times, right?’

He looked at her, and nodded very slightly. ‘Of course. Caught me by surprise, that’s all.’

She smiled at him, as warmly as she could, and hoped he could see in her eyes that it really was okay. She nodded to the bathroom. ‘You want to take a shower?’ He scrambled out of bed and shut the door firmly behind him.

Clara lay back on the satin sheets and closed her eyes. It was more than okay. It was _amazing._ They were going to have one hell of a talk when this was over.

 


	5. Same Old, Same Old

 

The breakfast suite on board the Royal Frigate was every bit as sumptuous as the ball room. There was a polite patter of conversation from the well-heeled guests, which quieted as the Doctor and Clara came in.

‘Looking at us again,’ Clara said uncomfortably. She searched for Jax and Tia, who were sitting at opposite sides of a long table, about as far away from each other as they could possibly be.

‘Oh dear. I feel bad for them. We crashed their ship.’

‘ _They_ crashed their ship, _we_ saved their lives,’ the Doctor corrected.

‘And now their relationship is in a mess. I’ll talk with Tia, you have a word with Jax.’ She sat down next to Tia. ‘What’s up? Where were you last night?’

Tia looked miserable. ‘Jax was being difficult. He never says what’s on his mind. I don’t know how he feels.’ She pushed her cereal around the bowl.

‘I know what that’s like.’ Although it was a lot clearer to her now exactly what was on the Doctor’s mind last night. Or at least on his _subconscious_ mind. Things leak out sometimes, but surely he wouldn’t have dreamed that unless he wanted something more from their relationship. But if he did, why keep her at a distance? 

‘It’s alright for you, it’s obvious how deeply connected you and the Doctor are,’ Tia was saying.

‘Is it?’ Clara poured a coffee from the silver pot on the table. Sometimes things seemed crystal clear to her, others they were as clear as mud.

Tia folded her arms and put her head to one side. ‘I don’t have to be a mind reader to see that. The way you look at one another!’

‘It’s…obvious then?’

‘Of course. But it’s only natural. You’re married.’ Tia looked a little horrified. ‘We didn’t interrupt your honeymoon?’ She pushed her unfinished breakfast aside and looked eagerly at Clara.

‘No! No, we’ve been doing this a while.’ Clara looked down at the toast she’d piled on her plate, then decided a change of subject was in order. ‘Can’t you sort things out with Jax? He looks just as miserable as you.’

‘I don’t know. If he was more honest with me, maybe. But how can you stay with someone who won’t talk about how they feel?’

Clara looked across as the Doctor and Jax, who were deep in conversation. ‘Don’t give up, Tia. There’s still time.’

At that moment, Prince Richard, with his smile more sparkling than ever, appeared. On his arm was the beautiful Ms. Corday, shimmering splendidly in a smart silver pantsuit and jacket. Richard winked at Clara, and continued his regal procession to the breakfast bar.

‘Looks like the Prince is in love again,’ Clara said.

Tia rolled her eyes. ‘His Highness does tend to wear his heart on his sleeve.’ She leaned forward conspiratorially. ‘Liz Corday has two husbands already!’

‘Two?’

‘Yes, and they’re both the jealous type.’ The two women looked at one another and dissolved into giggles.

**~*~**

Gaskell stood in his office, scowling at Elwick. Something was off. Someone was trying to pull the wool over his eyes.

‘Well?’ he demanded.

Elwick consulted his list. ‘I’ve checked out their story and made careful notes, sir. They seem to be able to communicate intentions without needing to speak. _He_ was enraged at the prospect of harm to her. _She_ was prepared to risk life and limb to rescue him from the lower levels.’

‘So? Good friends might behave that way.’

‘Well some of the looks they exchange are frankly, smouldering. He was terribly jealous of the Prince, they argued, but their reconciliation was quite touching. She was equally jealous of the actress I hired. And when they danced together. . . ’

‘Spit it out!’

‘They kissed, quite passionately.’

‘And?’

Elwick sighed audibly. ‘I snuck into their room, as you requested. They shared the bed. In fact they were sleeping in each other’s arms.’

Gaskell scowled and jabbed his finger at the last item on the list.

Elwick spluttered, ‘You can’t possibly expect me to observe _that_ ,’ he said. ‘They are doing everything else, I think it’s safe to assume they are--’

Gaskell raised a hand. ‘Yes, alright. I believe they are married, that much is obvious. Dismissed.’

As the small red man left, Gaskell turned on a monitor. ‘Sabbath? Do you have a report for me?’

A woman’s face appeared on the screen. ‘We found the final images. All reports confirm Time Lords can regenerate only twelve times, thirteen faces. None of them matches the picture you sent me. Whatever else he told you might be true, but I don’t see how he can be the Doctor.’

Gaskell slammed his fist into the desk. The time traveller _was_ lying. Not about his wife, but about who _he_ was. He’d been rubbing shoulders with the royals and laughing behind his back.

He looked at the picture on his desk, his mother, father and baby sister looked back at him. He picked the frame up. It wouldn’t bring his family back, but he could rid the universe of an arrogant time travelling menace.  

**~*~**

Elwick met the Doctor and Clara after breakfast. ‘What are our chances of getting the TARDIS back today? Is Chief Gaskell in the mood to let us go?’ Lady Clara asked. He rubbed his nose. He’d been wondering that himself. Gaskell was a first class ass. Lady Clara was considerate and sweet, and he’d even warmed up to the grumpy Time Lord. His face this morning had been priceless. He shrugged. ‘I don’t know,’ he said. ‘Perhaps you would like to take a walk in the arboretum?’ Then maybe he could find out what Gaskell had planned. 

‘Let’s find Jax and Tia and take a walk together, shall we?’ Clara said to the Doctor. ‘A romantic walk might do them good.’ Elwick watched with amusement as they talked.

‘Why would a walk do them good?’ the Time Lord asked.

‘Didn’t you talk to Jax at breakfast?’

‘Yes.’

Lady Clara groaned. ‘Well, what did he say?’

‘He said,  “It’s hard to upregulate the efficiency of a fusion engine with intermittent  plasma coils”’.

‘Anything else?’

‘The price of Helium 3 is shockingly high at the moment.’

Lady Clara looked like she wanted to scream. ‘Anything _else_?’

‘Oh, yes, he said Telosians are a bunch of rogues who can’t hold their drink. Well, not in those words. That’s the PG rated version.’ Lady Clara groaned.

The Doctor looked bemused. ‘What I was supposed to be talking about?’

Elwick grinned. This pair were certainly entertaining.

**~*~**

Elwick had led them to a whole deck given over to nature. The air was moist and warmer that in the rest of the ship, and all around them was an ocean of green, purples, oranges with trees in full flower. The sweet smell of blossom filled the air. They paused by the door while they waited for Jax and Tia. Clara picked a flower from the trees and held in between her fingers for a moment. Then she squatted in front of Elwick, and offered it to him.

‘Gaskell’s been working you too hard.’ she said, and popped the flower in his lapel.

His face wrinkled into a smile. ‘Thank you, Lady Clara. Ah, your friends are here. Enjoy your walk.’

‘You’re not coming with us?’

‘No, I have other jobs,’ he said, patting his clipboard. He disappeared along the corridor.

Tia was scowling and Jax was trailing unhappily behind her when they arrived at the arboretum. Clara fell in step with Tia, and mouthed ‘talk to him,’ at the Doctor while pointing to Jax, although she didn’t hold much hope of anything useful passing between the two men. She linked arms with Tia.

‘So, you and Jax not talking then?’

Tia sighed. ‘It’s hopeless. He can’t, or won’t, tell me how he feels. What am I supposed to do? As they walked the trees around them became thicker casting shadows on the leaf covered deck around them.

‘Then maybe _you_ should tell _him_.’

‘Me?’ Tia looked surprised.

‘Sometimes you have to find the courage to say what you want. Or else spend your whole life wondering.’

Tia looked thoughtfully back at the Jax and the Doctor who were deep in conversation. ‘He doesn’t seem to have a problem talking now.’

‘Yeah, but they’re probably talking about engines.’

Tia nodded. ‘Of course they are.’

Clara halted to let the men catch up, thinking that she would take the Doctor’s arm and let Tia and Jax walk together. But the Doctor’s pace had picked up, his strides lengthened, and his face stiffened. She knew that look.

‘What’s wrong?’ she asked, looking around uneasily.

The Doctor stepped close to her. ‘We’re being followed, and not by Elwick.’

Clara searched the undergrowth. No flashes of red and black spikes, but she caught a flash of red cape. ‘How many?’

‘At least six, maybe more. Armed,’ he said.

‘I knew it was too good to last.’ Jax complained.

Tia shot him a _look_. ‘Of course you did!’

Clara held up her hands. ‘Okay, domestics later, let’s focus on getting out of here, and back to the TARDIS?’

They all moved towards each other until they were standing, back to back, in a small clearing among the trees.

The Doctor said, ‘Okay. What have we got to work with?’

Clara pulled the manicure scissors from her pocket and held them in her hand. They didn’t look like much, and she knew the Doctor didn’t have the sonic glasses. Tia pulled a tool from her back pocket.

‘I’ve still got my proximal regulator,’ she said.

The Doctor grinned approvingly and pulled a small square device out of his pocket.

Jax looked down at it and hissed, ‘That’s the remote unit for the damn curtains!’

‘I upgraded it. It will piggyback onto any local signal,’ the Doctor snapped. ‘What have _you_ got?’

Jax chewed his lip apologetically, and then put up his fists. ‘These?’

Clara sighed. ‘So we have a remote control, a space spanner, a small pair of scissors and our bare fists, against a squadron of Royal Guards with blast rifles?’

The Doctor grinned. ‘Same old, same old.’

Clara glanced over her shoulder at  him and muttered, ‘Can’t wait to see how we get out of this.’   

 


	6. About Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Let's see how they get out of this fix, and what they do afterwards...
> 
> Special thanks to my lovely betas Turner and Daisy for helping improve Gaskell's story arc.

 

The Doctor scanned the trees in the direction they’d come. The walk here took ten minutes; sprinting, they’d be back at the door in three. It would be locked, but he had an idea about that. _Then_ they needed to get back to the TARDIS.  Still, one problem at a time.

There was a rustle to the left, and a flash of silver. A helmet.

Another rustle, closer this time: two more guards to the right, blast rifles out.

He glanced at his companions. Tia griped her proximal regulator like a weapon, although she must know it would only manipulate electronics. Still, it was a clever thing, using near-infrared molecular vibration.

Jax stood close to Tia, fists raised, incongruently blue against the green of the trees.

Clara’s back was pressed to his. He should stop, he thought dimly, putting her in danger like this. But in a tight spot, who else would he want to have his back?

The rustling in the bushes was louder. They were closing in.

He hissed to Tia, ‘See that control node up there? Can your regulator switch the lights off?’

‘I think so.’

Jax said, ‘Then we’ll all be in the dark.’

‘If you ever listened to a word I said you’d know my regulator uses near-infra electromagnetic waves,’ Tia snapped under her breath.

‘So?’

‘So if I widen the beam, we’ll see their heat signatures.’

Heavy boots snapped twigs in front and behind.

‘Now would be a good time!’ Clara hissed, and within seconds the arboretum plunged into darkness. The Doctor felt Clara reach for his hand. He gripped it tightly.

There were shouts in the darkness, ‘Hey!’ ‘Oi, the lights!’ among a cacophony of disgruntled calls and crashing boots.

Tia swept the regulator around the undergrowth like a torch, and the patchy shapes of Royal Guards appeared in the distance as the beam passed, deep reds in their torsos, light yellow at their finger-tips.

‘This way!’ Tia called, and they sprinted for the pathway. The trees around them were shrouded in darkness, but the regulator showed the path just enough to keep them on track.

There was yelling and crashing behind.

The Doctor pulled Clara’s hand, could hear her breathing fast as she kept pace with his long strides. ‘Clara, your scissors.’ He felt her press them into his hand. They had only seconds before the guards caught up.

They skidded to a halt in front of the door. ‘Jax, keep watch,’ he said, prised open the door control panel with the scissors.

Voices in the undergrowth closed in. ‘They’ll be at the door.’

‘Gaskell doesn’t care if the others are dead or alive,’ a breathless voice said, ‘but he wants the Time Lord captured.’

The  Doctor worked faster, using the scissors to strip a cable and attach it to the remote control in his hand. He took a deep breath and activated the unit. They would be exceptionally lucky if this worked…

The door slid open a crack, then stopped.

He tried again.

Nothing.

More crashing behind them. An energy weapon cracked overhead, bathing the arboretum in an orange glow.

‘This way!’ a voice yelled from the bushes. 

Jax had his fingers wrapped through the doors, and was pulling, his large arm muscles bulging under the strain.

The door moved a fraction.

Tia slipped herself under his arms and added her weight too.

The door creaked back a centimetre.

The Doctor desperately stripped another wire, plunged it into the box, then pressed the red button again.

Three Royal guards burst from the foliage, blast rifles ready.

The doors swished open. Tia reeled sideways, teetering towards the guards. Jax lunged and caught her before she fell, and dragged her though the doors. 

‘They’re getting away!’ A shot cracked past the Doctor’s head, and he ducked, grabbed Clara’s hand, and pulled her through the door too, yanking the remote free as he went. The door slammed shut.

Elwick stood in the corridor, bristling red, arms crossed, no clipboard. ‘Going somewhere?’ The Doctor’s hearts sank to his boots. Elwick could have Gaskell down here in a flash. 

Although, now in his spikey red hand was the little flower Clara gave him earlier. He looked up at her with hopeful eyes. ‘Because if you _are_ going somewhere, Lady Clara, I could really use a lift.’

**~*~**

When they reached the luggage hold, they paused and Doctor peeked around doors. Two guards stood outside the TARDIS, helmets off, leaning on their laser rifles. One was balding, with a paunch that stuck out of his red robe, and the other tall and skinny, two days stubble. Whatever else Prince Richard was, he was right about one thing, Gaskell’s men _were_ a mess.

The area between them and the TARDIS was piled high with boxes and suitcases, and would give just enough cover to get half way. After that, they’d be out in the open. The Doctor glanced at Elwick, who winked, and walked into the hold directly towards the guards.

The Doctor looked at Clara, Tia and Jax, and whispered, ‘All clear on the plan?’ They nodded, and watched Elwick approach the guards.

‘Hey, little red guy!’ the fat guard said. Elwick muttered something they couldn’t hear, and stepped close to the TARDIS. They guards laughed and turned to face him, their backs now to the door of the hold.

The Doctor signalled, ‘Go.’

Jax and Tia went to the left, he and Clara to the right. They squeezed in a narrow gap between suitcases and boxes. It was a tight fit and she pressed against him, distractingly close. She probably didn’t need to be still holding his hand, but she was, and he felt his face flush. She was looking up at him intently, those big brown eyes locked with his.

She said, ‘We should talk. When we get back on the TARDIS.’

That sounded ominous. No doubt she’d let rip about this morning once they were alone. He looked down at his feet, flushed hotter, and mumbled ‘Sorry.’

She frowned, sighed and muttered, ‘You’re an idiot, you know,’ and squeezed his hand. Then she peeked around the corner of the cases. She whispered, ‘Jax is…Oh, speaking of idiots…he was supposed to let Tia draw the young one off.’

The Doctor looked around the corner, to see Jax launching himself at the skinny guard.

‘Come on!’ Clara tugged his hand, and they flew towards the melee.

Jax punched the skinny guard and sent him sprawling.

Elwick rolled himself at the portly guard’s feet, while Tia shoved him from behind. He stumbled forwards and landed against a tower of luggage, bounced back and fell to the floor. The Doctor dashed around them and opened the TARDIS doors. He looked back for the others. Jax was shaking his big blue fist, and Tia scrambled over the skinny guard sprawled on the floor and toward the TARDIS. Elwick was close behind.

He looked around, fear pulling at his chest. Clara. Where was Clara?

~*~

Gaskell stepped out from behind a stack of luggage. He gripped Clara by the throat, tight enough to feel the cartridge in her neck under against his palm. She wheezed a little. He jammed his gun into her ribs. ‘Keep still, all of you,’ he said.

Clara struggled in his grip, ‘He _stopped_ the Time War!’ she said. He rammed the gun into her side and she gasped and stilled.

‘I believe your husband is a thief who stole you away from your father. But I don’t think he’s the Doctor at all.’

The Time Lord was grey faced. ‘Don’t hurt her. Please. You want me to beg? I’ve done that before, and I’ll do it again. I’m asking you, properly, please don’t hurt her.’

‘Your war took everything that mattered to me. Why shouldn’t I take what you love most?’ Gaskell saw the image of his parents and sister, trapped forever in the photograph on his desk. His throat tightened.

The Time Lord took a short step towards him, his voice soft and reasonable. ‘You’ve lost people, I get that. Will this bring them back?’

‘No, but it will make me feel better,’ Gaskell spat. Who was this time traveller to lecture _him_ on loss?

The Time Lord went on, ‘Will it though? Holding on to anger is like drinking poison yourself and expecting the other person to die.’ He took another step closer, his palms open outward. ‘You want revenge? Fine, take me. But I guarantee you’ll wake up tomorrow morning just as bitter.’

Gaskell paused. His hand fell away from Clara’s throat. ‘I’m supposed to just forget about them? My parents, my baby sister, who never had a life?’

The Time Lord shook his head. ‘You never forget them, of course not. But live in a way that would make them proud, not ashamed.’

Gaskell looked at Clara, her breath rasping, eyes wide with fear. She was a caught in a battle that wasn’t hers, just like his family. He pushed her forward and turned his gun on the Doctor.

‘Time Lords, biggest cheaters in the galaxy. So many lives, you forget what it means to face death. You stop caring about _people_ ,’ he said, but the venom was fading from his words, and his gun wavered.

Lady Clara turned around to face him, rubbing her throat. Her voice was hoarse.  ‘I’m sorry you lost people you love. The Doctor told me once, immortality isn’t living for ever, that’s not what it feels like. It’s everyone else dying. He loses people he cares about over and over again.’ Lady Clara stepped into the space between him and her husband.

The Time Lord rumbled a warning, ‘Clara--’

‘Doctor, shut up,’ she said over her shoulder, then turned back to Gaskell with pleading eyes. ‘He _is_ the Doctor, and he saves people. He’s a good man. The best man I’ve ever met. Please, just let us go.’

Gaskell’s shoulders slumped, and he wondered what his mother would say right now. He smiled sadly, because deep down he knew. She’d say, ‘Let it go, Irwin.’

He lowered his gun and shook his head, then waved towards the TARDIS. ‘Go. Before I change my mind, just go. If I see you again I won’t give you a second chance.’

The Time Lord, the Doctor, whoever he was, stepped up close behind Clara and put his hands on her shoulders, the relief on his face palpable. They boarded the TARDIS together, Jax, and Tia, and even Elwick close behind. Before the doors shut the Doctor looked back, smiled and said, ‘Thank you, Chief.’ 

~*~

Inside the TARDIS Elwick was frozen, open mouthed, in the console room. Jax stood next to him. ‘Trans-dimensional engineering, eh?’ he said, nodding sagely. ‘I always said it was possible.’

The Doctor looked with concern at Clara.  ‘Are you alright?’ she was holding her side.

‘I’m okay. Bruised ribs I think.’

‘You should let me take a look’. . . ’ he said, then he flushed and added, ‘or not. I probably don’t need to see. Your ribs. . . ’ She stared at him. He stepped back and decided it was best to stop talking. He busied himself at the console, then looked down at his smallest passenger. ‘Where to, Elwick?’

‘Somewhere I can find a new job,’ he said.

Jax and Tia sat at opposite sides of the console room. ‘You two?’ Jax shrugged and Tia looked at the ceiling. What a pair! Even he could see these two needed to stop fighting and start talking.

Clara sidled over to him and said quietly, ‘They need their heads banging together. And you were no help. You were supposed to talk to Jax.’ She side-bumped him then winced.

He folded his arms. Maybe it was time to show Clara he wasn’t completely clueless. He clicked his fingers at Jax, ‘Last place, before the crash? Where were you?’

Jax looked blank. ‘Farpoint Station. Why?’ But the Doctor didn’t answer, he was busy fishing the lost divergence chip out from under the grill where it had rolled just before the _Grifter_  locked onto the TARDIS. With a satisfied nod he clipped the chip back into its rightful place. Then he started scrolling through TARDIS data banks.

‘What are you up to?’ Clara asked.

‘Divergence points, temporal crossroads,’ he said. Then something else caught his eye. ‘There’s a sub-space message from Prince Richard’s private yacht to our friend  Gaskell.’

Elwick nodded. ‘The Prince left this morning, with Ms. Corday.’

The Doctor grinned. ‘Shall we spy on _them?_ ’ He put the message on the speakers.

The Prince’s voice came over the airwaves. ‘Gaskell, old chap, I’ve got myself in a bit of a jam. I need you to deal with _the husbands of Liz Corday._ ’

Gaskell’s voice was strained. ‘Your Highness, really...’

‘Just deal with it, Gaskell, or my father can find a new Chief of the Guard,’ the Prince snapped.

‘Yes, your Highness. Of course…’ the Doctor cut the message, as Clara and Tia dissolved into fits of laughter.

**~*~**

The TARDIS materialised in the corner of the bar on Farpoint Station. The Doctor motioned to Elwick. ‘This is your stop. Busiest spaceport in the sector. You should have no trouble picking up work here. You two,’ he nodded sternly at Jax and Tia,  ‘stay put.’

On the space station, the Doctor said goodbye to Elwick. ‘Just make sure you avoid the Royal Frigate for a couple of days. Don’t want to run into yourself.’ He turned to survey the room. Tia stood at the bar, and Jax watched her from a distance. A Telosian, obviously drunk, sauntered over to her, whispered something, and put his hand on her backside.

Jax stood, fuming, his fist raised, ready to run at the guy. The Doctor grabbed his hand.

‘Jaisen Jax, I’m delivering a message,’ he said. Jax whipped round and stared at the stranger.

‘What message?’

The Doctor nodded at Tia. ‘Have a little faith. Trust her to take care of herself.’ As they watched, Tia deftly transferred the Telosian’s hand to the bar and wiggled free, shaking her head. The Telosian roared with laughter, and turned back to the bar.

Tia saw Jax and the Doctor and headed over. ‘Jax! Have you arranged the fuel?’

‘Yeah,’ he said, ‘it’s waiting in the hanger, we just have to load it.’

Tia smiled at the Doctor. ‘Who’s this?’ she asked Jax. Jax shrugged.

The Doctor put his arm around Jax shoulder. ‘Jax, some advice from a friend. Tell her how you feel. While you have time, tell her.’ Jax blinked at the tall stranger.

‘Tell me what, Jax?’ Tia asked. The Doctor smiled, and headed back to the TARDIS with his own advice ringing in his ears. Some cures are easy to prescribe. It’s much harder to take your own medicine.  

**~*~**

Clara turned with wide eyes towards the Doctor as he stepped back into the TARDIS. Jax and Tia had vanished in front of her eyes! ‘They just disappeared!’ she said. ‘But I remember everything, how is that possible?’

‘Temporal grace. You’re a time traveller, Clara.’ 

‘So Tia and Jax, they have time now, to work out what they mean to each other. You gave them that, the gift of time.’

‘Time?’ he said. ‘I kid myself sometimes, I can master time, wrap it up in a neat package. But it’s more like a predator, stalking me, hunting me down, waiting to snatch things that are most precious to me away.’

She stepped closer, looked at that face of his, and when she put her hand gently to his cheek something snapped into place: he wasn’t afraid of being close to her. He was afraid of _losing_ her.

‘No, you’re wrong. Time’s more like a companion, traveling with us, reminding us to cherish each moment because what we have is precious. If we spend our time looking over our shoulders at shadows, we’ll miss what’s right in front of us.’ Her heart began to beat faster.

‘And what is right in front of us, Clara? Please help me out here, because I am hopelessly lost,’ he said. His voice quavered but his eyes locked with hers.

She paused only for a moment. ‘I think we should dance, Doctor,’ she said, and stepped closer, gently putting a hand to his waist. Would pull away? She held her breath.

Tentatively he put his arms around her. ‘A leap of faith?’ He held her lightly, almost as if he were afraid she would break. ‘Why do you keep travelling with me, Clara Oswald?’

‘Why do you keep coming back for me?’

He gave a small exasperated sigh. ‘I asked first.’ He pushed a stray lock of hair from her face. ‘Do you stay because I show you the stars, take you amazing places in my magic blue box?’

‘It started out that way.’

‘And now?’

Clara looked up at him, his eyes were impossibly blue. He showed her wonders, that was true. But that stopped being the reason she stayed a long time ago.

‘You’re like an addiction. I couldn’t give you up if I wanted to.’ 

His voice was low and breathy as he whispered in her ear, ‘What do you want, Clara Oswald?’

They could go on like this for hours, talk with tangled tongues till the end of time. Or she could find her courage and tell him want she really wanted, here and now. 

‘I want you to kiss me again,’ she said, with her heart dancing in her chest.

He didn’t blink or falter, his eyes were locked with hers. ‘Clara, I won’t want to stop with a kiss. I’ll want everything, not just Wednesdays,’ he said softly. ‘Do you?’

Her heart raced. _Everything_ ; body and soul, heart and mind, no more vacillating between Coal Hill and the TARDIS.

The words slipped breathlessly from her lips. ‘I do.’

‘Are you sure?’

She had never been surer.

Who knew how long they would have? No one ever knows that, not really. But she was sure of one thing: they shouldn’t waste a single minute more. She slipped her hands under his jacket, between the layers, and pulled him close. His hearts were thumping just as fast as hers.

‘Oh, you beautiful idiot. For better for worse, for richer for poorer, I can’t say it any clearer. I do, I do, I do.’ 

He stared, a little stunned, as if he still didn’t quite trust his ears.

She breathed, ‘Doctor, please kiss me now.’

He pressed his lips to hers and she closed her eyes, let his kiss sweep her away, until her heart raced and her body yearned for him.  

‘Let’s get a room,’ she whispered. ‘It’s about time, don’t you think?’

He nodded. ‘Same basic principles underneath.’

She tugged his hand, lead him towards her room. ‘Human, Time Lord, together?’

‘Together.’

**~*~**

Later, they lay limbs entwined, still flushed, happily floating down from a high that had been a long time in the making.

There were no layers between them now, no lace or silk, and her hair was loose about her shoulders. She was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. He ghosted his hand along her ribs, over the livid bruise left by Gaskell’s gun, touching her so gently she didn’t notice the trickle of regeneration energy trailing from his fingers. He watched, satisfied, as the mark faded. He would protect her anyway he could, keep her as safe as he knew how. Clara _was_ a mayfly, but what mattered was making every moment count. No more double-talk, no more hiding.

‘I love you,’ he said.

She put her hand to his face. ‘I love you too,’ she whispered. Then she laughed gently and shook her head. ‘All this time, I thought you didn’t want me this way.’

‘I’ve always wanted you. I didn’t think _you_ wanted this.’

She shook her head. ‘We’re a pair of prize fools. Thank god for Devonians and their mucked up stories.’ She was silent for a while, then propped herself up with her elbow on the pillow, and traced swirling lines across his chest with her finger. ‘You still haven’t told me the story. Did you really steal the President’s daughter?’ 

He twitched a small smile and shook his head. ‘The Devonians got it all wrong,’ he said, pulling her close and kissing her again. ‘I didn’t steal the President’s daughter. She stole me.’

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for following along, and your kind and encouraging comments! 
> 
> I have had such fun writing this! Trouble is there's a tiny voice in my ear whispering, "They had a pretend marriage, now they should have a pretend honeymoon..."

**Author's Note:**

> If you enjoyed this story you might also enjoy Time Shadows 2: Second Nature, an unofficial charity anthology featuring all 12 incarnations of the Doctor plus the War Doctor. Available to print on demand. Digital download to be released soon.
> 
> {{{Hint the Twelfth Doctor and Clara story 'Divergence' by Kate Coleman is rather good}}}}
> 
> http://pseudoscopepublishing.com/timeshadows/


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